How to Comfort a Swan
by unbrokensaviorwithperfecthair
Summary: She should be scared. She's clinging to him like he's the only thing tethering her to Earth, sobbing in his arms, yet she feels safe rather than exposed. A year ago she wouldn't have been caught dead crying to someone. Then again, a year ago she wore a black leather dress to a date instead of a frilly, light pink monstrosity. What the hell did New York do to her?


I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters. I'm simply borrowing them for my own amusement.

**Inspired by a conversation between another one of my OTPs in a different fandom.**

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><p>A quiet, almost subdued Emma Swan is the last thing Killian expects to find on the other side of his door at Granny's, and even though the loud, frantic knocking had promptly woken him up from his sound slumber, seeing his Swan so… un-Swan-like pushes the last tendrils of sleep away.<p>

"Emma, love, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Can I come in?" It makes him even more uneasy that she doesn't immediately insist she's fine, that there's nothing wrong. Could their date have gone so badly? He swears everything went swimmingly (well, except for the part where he gets reverse-reverse psychologied by the Crocodile, but he's more than willing to bet she knows nothing about that).

He steps aside and she crosses the threshold without a thought, and he shuts the door behind them quietly, afraid that too loud a noise will scare her off. She rubs her hands up and down her bare arms and he finally notices that she's already changed her clothes. He wonders where her jacket is (also, where _his_ jacket is because he'd like it back at some point) because that grey t-shirt can't possibly be warm enough for nighttime Storybrooke. He takes note that the black yoga pants do more for her than her typical jeans, but realizes that now is not the time to stare, and the most appropriate time to be a gentleman. So, he takes a blanket off of one of the easy chairs and offers it to her. She accepts it with a small smile, but stays standing rather than taking up one of the vacant chairs.

"Will you tell me what this is about, now?" She stays silent and pulls the blanket tighter against her body while she turns to look out the window. With an internal sigh at her silence, Killian says, "If you wanted to go on a second date so soon, you could have just told me when I dropped you at your parents'."

"It's not that," she says quietly. "I mean, the date was wonderful. Probably the best one I've ever had, it's just… I had to get out of there. As much as I love Mary Margaret's apartment, it's hard to find privacy with four adults, a teenager, and a screaming newborn." Though that doesn't explain exactly why she's here (it actually raises the question_ why_, because if she'd been looking for privacy, why did she seek out another person?) it does explain why she doesn't have a jacket: she'd simply ran out the door as fast as she could.

"I imagine so," he says, nodding in agreement. She's still staring out the window with her back to him, and he realizes he's not going to get answers unless he does some coaxing. He hates the coaxing approach, because she'll either react well or get angry, and he doesn't want to ruin the great night they'd just had. "That doesn't explain why you're here, though. You were looking for privacy, yet you wound up with someone else."

After a moment, she says so quickly he almost misses it, "I guess I should have worded it as 'I was looking for somewhere safe because I'm gonna lose my shit in about two seconds and I don't want an audience because I feel safe by myself, but that wasn't an option so the only other safe option was you, so here I am'."

He doesn't quite know what to make of her honesty. He wants to reach out to her and pull her close, but if she really is on the brink of a break down, he knows it's entirely possible she'll just want to be left alone. He's surprised when she helps makes the decision for him, and turns around. He takes one look at the tears she stubbornly refuses to let fall and knows what he should do.

"Oh gods, c'mere."

Wordlessly, she tumbles into his arms with little more control than when she was freed from the ice cave. Her chin rests on his shoulder, and his on her head. His hook is at her waste and his hand is cupping the back of her head. He simply holds her as hot tears dampen his new shirt.

"It's too much, Killian," she says in a wavering voice.

"What's too much, love?"

"Everything. When I was with you tonight, I forgot about being the Savior. I forgot about the Snow Queen. I felt light and good, and then when I saw my parents sitting on the couch, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm supposed to be the Savior, and a princess, and a daughter, and a sister, and a mother, and the only thing I'm even halfway decent at is being a mother."

"Hey, it's okay, Emma. It's all okay. Storybrooke's still here, everyone's fine. You're great at being the Savior, otherwise we'd be back in the Enchanted Forest or something."

"I couldn't save Neal," she says matter-of-factly.

"That's because he wouldn't let you. It was his choice to die, you have to make peace with that. You may need to play many different roles, but everyone's taking you as is. Just be yourself, and I promise everything will work out just fine." He presses a kiss to the top of her head and rubs her bare arms; the blanket had fallen to the floor when she'd stepped into his embrace. "That's not all of it, though, is it?"

Why does he have to know her so well?

"No," she sighs in defeat. "I can't quite seem to get the cold out of my bones. I've been in near-death situations before, but in that ice cave, I could feel the life leaving my body, Killian. Normally there's some way for me to fight it, some way for me to find a way to survive, but nobody was purposely hurting me; I didn't have any control, and it was… it was…"

"Scary," he finishes for her. She nods, and he wipes away the newly fallen tears. "I know, love. I know what you're feeling, and it's going to be alright. You're going to be just fine."

Normally, she'd ask him how in the hell he knew what it was like to be dying and have no way to stop it, but she knows that his head was held under a tub of water and he drowned; the only thing that saved him was CPR. He knows what it's like to be dying and unable to fight the force that's slowly sucking the life from your body.

They stay silent for a moment, acknowledging each other's pain.

"I'm so much tougher than this," she says quietly as she turns away slightly to wipe the moisture off her cheeks. It breaks his heart because he knows she's still expecting herself to be perfectly fine after so many traumatic events.

"I know you are, you're tougher than me and that's… tough," he pauses to let his words sink in, willing her to understand that she isn't weak for taking a moment to release everything she'd been holding in for the past few weeks. Then, because he can tell the moment is getting to be too much for her, he adds jokingly, "Even with this adorable veneer."

She gives a self-depreciating laugh and says, "And just like that, the moment is way gone."

"That's okay," he smiles and looks at her lovingly, "I've got more moments."

"Good," She gives him the same tightlipped, teary smile she gave him when she and Henry had to leave for New York. This one, though, is more hopeful. He pulls her back in for another hug and relishes in the way she relaxes against him. "I should probably get back home," she whispers with a very noticeable amount of regret in her voice as she untangles herself from his arms. "Mary Margaret and David probably have no idea why I ran out because I had such a good night, and they might start a search party."

"Ahh, I see. The device that you use to talk to me when I press the 'Emma' button is at home."

"The phone?" she smiles, "Yeah. On the kitchen table, actually."

"Well, then there's no way for us to be interrupted, especially since your lad's at Regina's." He gives her a 'look' and she silent curses him.

"I still have other responsibilities, Killian. My parents have to take care of Neal, and somebody needs to keep an eye on Elsa. They can't possibly take care of an adult and a newborn right now."

"Love, _you're_ their adult daughter."

"Right," she nods to herself, pushing down a tiny pang of jealousy. She honestly isn't mad at her baby brother, but she can't help but feel annoyed that Snow's barely put him down since she first got to hold him. In fact, Emma was surprised when it was Snow who took the picture of her earlier that evening, because it required her to put the baby down for thirty seconds. She wishes she got that kind of clingy attention when the curse broke and they realized who she was…

Except they _had_ given her that attention. They had wanted to be with her as much as possible, then she fell down a portal, and her mother had jumped in after her because she didn't want to lose her again. And instead of relishing in the attention, Emma had pushed them away.

"Killian, I really have to go home. I owe my parents an apology. But first, I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to open up, and I'm sorry for pushing you away."

"It's quite alright, love. You're here now, and that's all that matters. Besides, I wasn't lying when I told you that I love a challenge." He kisses her again to show her he really does mean what he says. It gives her butterflies. Hell, _he_ gives her butterflies, and she wants to smack him for it because Emma Swan does not do the smiley, giggly, nervous teenage girl thing.

Except for when it comes to Killian Jones.

But he's always been the exception.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Killian," She smiles and places a tender kiss to his lips to tell him that _she_ means what she's saying, too. As he walks her to his door, he says,

"Perhaps you should borrow my other jacket. It's quite cold outside, and I'd hate for you to get sick."

"I've had worse," she replies, giving him a reassuring smile.

"There's my Swan." He gives her one last kiss just to make sure she's real and she really did make it out of Elsa's ice cave.

"Goodnight, Killian," she walks backwards out of his room because she isn't so sure she can take her eyes off him, not after yesterday's near Killian-abob with an icicle.

"Emma, you'll see me tomorrow. I promise."

Damn pirate knows her too well. Still, she can't help but feel reassured because he's always kept his promises to her. She smirks at him, but he sees the gratitude in her eyes for making her feel better.

It occurs to him as he closes the door that she hadn't threatened to kill him if he told anyone about her breakdown. He wonders if it's because she trusts him enough to know he won't tell, or that he can't promise to not tell if her parents were to ask him how she's holding up, because he could never lie about her wellbeing.

Either way, he knows he wants to be the one to be there for her whenever she's feeling down (though he'd prefer she never feel down, he knows that's not an option).

He feels better, too, he notices. Though his latest encounter with the Dark One is weighing on his mind, seeing Emma had taken away some of the worry. Emma may not see herself as the Savior, but he will make damn sure that she knows she's his savior.


End file.
